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Showing posts from March, 2013

Wear 90: A Reason, A Season, A Lifetime

I have a blog stewing but I keep moving it forward a day because things come up. It is about two friends starting their blogs and me sharing what I know with them. Yes, yes, that could take stretching to fill a sentence, but I can get wordy when need be, so it has been sidelined again for a discussion about sugar. Sugar. Ah. You seemed like a friend. You made me happy. We could chat on the couch for hours. You stroked my hair and held me, whispered lovely things to me, when I was sad. You celebrated special occasions with me. But when I needed some space, when I asked you to give me this room to lose these kilos so I didn't have to give money to people I don't like, you turned. And what a nasty, conniving, vindictive, two-faced biach you showed yourself to be! You gave me a migraine. I am convinced of that now. And, today! Yes. That was your piece-de-resistance. From rage to catatonic to anger to depression to crying to wanting to go to sleep and never wake up. These are t…

Day 89: A bride without a head: A wolf without a foot

A migrain had me in bed, missing work, until four in the afternoon, with the blessed side affect of finding me awake for late-night television. Moonstruck is on. I haven't watched it for years. It was always one of my favourites. On so many levels. Now you can add vintage eighties fashion as another. From Moonstruck I got Dean Martin, as Harolf and Maude gave me Cat Stevens. From Moonstruck, my love for Cher and Nicholas Cage (although his aging process, not gracefully taken, has made the edges of that love rough). Those red sequined shoes, that huge buttery moon that brings woman to man, the twin towers still in the skyline. What fabulous characters; what fabulous lines. 'I ain't no monument to justice! I lost my hand, I lost my bride. Johnny has his hand, Johnny has his bride. You want me to take my heartache, put it away and forget?' (Drama queen). And: 'Loretta, I love you. Not like they told you love is, and I didn't know this either, but love don't m…

Wear 88: Faulted; Begin Again Tomorrow

COM250: HOA - 78901 - 1440 mins*

List_Addict               Irene
* This is work code, for those who don't know, for holding this job for the designated amount of time under the authority of the member whose number you see there (not real). It means I do not have to action this until 1440 mins from now. Just don't have the available manpower to do the job at this point in time.

The OutfitTop: Op-shoppedCardigan: Op-shoppedJeans: TargetBelt: From a pair of Target shortsBoots: Sportsgirl

Photographer de Jour: Me

Who wore it better?

Wear 87: There Are Things To Say

The surname Proctor always makes me inwardly giggly. It seems naughty.

Are we going to be trying Arrow and The Following? When I say we I mean Aussie we's as I'm guessing the latter doesn't become 'America's number one drama' if no one has seen it yet. I love Kevin. I may have been inappropriate about Kevin in a cinema in my teens. Only inappropriate in accordance to cinema protocol that is.

Today was 'bad day'. The day I get to eat anything I want. It is intended as a moment of food sanity in the otherwise intense attempt to lose twenty-five kilos. Although, within that sentence lies a little of my issue. What I need to do is key into the reason why I find sweet yumminesses so comforting. Because until then I will want them. And that is no help to me. What holds me back from making that exploration? Just the disconcerting nature of the truth probably.

Irene               List_Addict
The warm weather has apparently left us for this part of the ye…

Wear 86: This Is A Serious Question

At what number do 'shoes' become 'too many pairs of shoes'? Does such a number exist? If I were to say to you that, including such practical (and irrelevant because ugly) things as sneakers, hiking boots, slippers, gumboots, climbing shoes and flip-flops, I have sixty-one pairs of shoes, which side of the number would you place me? I only ask because I have been on this shoe-do methadone program in which I manage my shoe addiction with regulated and controlled buys, rather than allowing myself to rampantly shop for shoes at whim—a storage nightmare—and my six-monthly dose is due. I am just wondering if you think that maybe it was time I cut loose from the placebo drugs and tried to make it cold turkey on my own in the world of 'occasional shoe purchases'. Am I ready? Is this the year, with this project in full-swing, to make such a bold move? And moving on from silly questions, how does the sound of six more pairs strike you? Excessive? Just about right? Cons…

Day 85: Short, Succinct and To The Point

I am grateful for my photographers. It takes time out of their everydays to help me with this mad project. In the words of my sister, which she uses so often that her phone can now guess the phrase after three letters (Pavlov's iPhone), bloody love you!!!!!

Irene               List_Addict
Would you mind awfully if I stopped there and went to bed? Aw. You guys are the best. Bloody love you too!

P.S: Happy Birthday to the best friend, travelling companion, shoulder-to-cry-on, co-gossiper, photographer, giggle-buddy, all-round-wunder-kind in the world!

The OutfitDress: Op-shopped, worn before (eek, the absolute original days are drying up, shoes excepted)Shirt: Op-shopped, also worn before (eek, eek)Necklace: A costume jewellery storeShoes: Irregular Choice

Photographer de Jour: B——

Who wore it better? Putting a link on with:

Wear 84: Not A Blatant Plug, Just Seems Like It

If you are in Melbourne, and seeing as it is the weekend ... Oh, wait. It's not, it's just my weekend which mostly doesn't co-incide with what is 'traditionally' considered a weekend, so seeing as it is a day, I am sure you are looking for something special to do. I can make a suggestion if you like? But it turns out you will have to wait for the 'real' weekend to do it. I am just getting your planning in early. This weekend, forget the whole Easter thing and head out to Herring Island, that little island in the middle of the Yarra River just at the end of Williams Road in Toorak (you didn't know it was there, did you?). You can catch a punt from there. Ceramics Victoria is hosting their Haven exhibition at the moment as part of the Herring Island Summer Arts Festival. Beautiful pieces of exquisitely worked clay abound. And if you go this weekend you also have their 'pop-up' shop, P.U.S.H., happening, where you can purchase and take home other w…

Day 83: Back to the Front of the Wardrobe

So exciting to be back in front of my closet. Also a little daunting. What will I wear? While I complained about my holiday outfits, there is something comforting about a limited choice. I chose this odd skirt with it's weird panels and puffs (not really complimentary but quite dramatic in it's non-conformist shape). I figured it needed a pattern clash but turns out I have very few patterened items (please remind me of that when I go op-shopping again—there is no way I will be emulating the Anna Sui look this season without some crazy pattern in my arsenal). So I went subtle, stylish clash with a grey-on-grey pattern. So fun to be dressing up again and having silly shoots. I am treating you to a kind of 'without make-up!!!' shock-photo like they do in the classiest of mags, and showing you what I look like when I am actually walking to the shoot location. You don't think I actually walk places in those heels do you? I may have hammed it up a little. Just a tad. (…

Day 82: Home

Home. Hi B——, howdy Lollster, hello Irene. Both in green and white. Wesley as airplane pillow. More tomorrow. Zzzzzzzz

Irene's OutfitDress: Op-shopped

List_Addict's OutfitTop: TargetCardigan: Op-shopped

Photographer de Jour: V——

Who wore it better?

Day 81: Breaking the Flight, KL

Well that was a rude awakening, chocka-block full economy class cabin. Eeouuw. I want to be in business class from now on. It's not about the status or the lounge. It is just about the better amount of personal space between me and the next sniffing, sweating, grunting, smelling human being. When I was an agent I was selling a business class ticket to a business man via his P.A. We were discussing, out of jealousy-based spite, the per hour cost of flying business class. Me: 'That is four hundred dollars an hour to fly to Singapore'. She:'Oh, when you say it like that, I suppose that is what he earns an hour'. Maybe all flights should be charged at the rate you earn per hour. It might make for a fabulously priced airfare for me but I would still have to get a much better job to get into business class.

The question you ask as each holiday draws to an end, Well one of them, (and not the ones that start with 'where did I leave my ...?), is 'if you had …

Day 80: Lamenting the Weakness of the Body

That migraine got the better of me well and truly. It is to blame for not posting yesterday's blog. It took out my whole evening. Straight to bed as soon as I was able to crawl home from that massive entree feast. Luckily, despite threatening, it didn't make me ride any porcelain. It took away one of my limitless breakfast opportunities, and they had macaroons this morning, as well as waffles. Yes, for breakfast. It even beat me into making a dream in which I called in sick come true. I called in sick to my tour to the Mekong. I'm not proud, but I would have been less proud hanging out the window of the bus depositing my meager mouthfuls of toast onto the surrounding countryside. Today was our last day in Vietnam. I will just have to come back and see the Mekong another time. to use a litote, I could honestly say I wouldn't be adverse to seeing Vietnam again.

Spent the first half of the day trying to sleep the headache away, and the second shopping. I managed to…

Day 79: Sensory Overload

I would imagine that many who visit Saigon's War Remnants Museum would say that there is another side to the story that isn't being told within those walls. It would be true. But it doesn't change the wrongs that have happened to this country in the the name of democracy. I must be a simpleton. I cannot understand how a country can have as fundamental to their being the right to choose any form of belief, to have freedom of speech, to be equal under God regardless, just regardless, but then not be able to choose Communism as their political guide. Don't get me wrong. I am not advocating this as my choice (even though I do believe in a former life I inhabited Socialist Russia—it's a hunch to do with tea in glasses and a love of the sound of the Russian language). But I don't understand the right to choose any belief except for ones that your Government is ignorantly afraid of, paranoid to the extreme by all evidences. I have no answers and so I don't feel I …

Day 78: My Favourite City So Far

I am liking Saigon. It feels good. It has the thirties about it still. A real French feeling. And while that is possibly not the best thing for the locals, given the history (I wouldn't like to be reminded of violent and long lasting colonial rule), it does make it romantic for the visitor. It is like something out of a classic novel. The Quiet American, for example. We flew in this afternoon and have really not even scratched the surface. But google the Grand Hotel. Look for images. There are lots of shots of the front which has a rounded corner entrance and is about four floors high. We arrived with two other Australians who had been on our transfer. The check in staff made a pointed emphasis on the fact that we had booked an old wing (it is more correectly termed the Ancient Wing) rather than new wing room. I started to get nervous. And it appears the ancient wing isn't a popular choice. The guy at reception then seemed to feel even worse for us and our choice and 'ga…

Day 77: Twenty-five for Twenty-five, or Twenty-five

I am making a pledge. And pledges that quite a few people are witness to are harder to talk away later on. Make sure you keep reminding me. At least until the day I snap at you in a sugar-deprived rage. To lose twenty-five kilos (eek). Due date: 14.4.14. Didn't go on easily so I am guessing it will come off even harder. I will set up a fund of twenty-five hundred dollars. If I lose the twenty-five, that goes to a new wardrobe. And what an op-shop extravaganza that will be. If I don't, the twenty-five hundred will go to five different sets of people who really, really, really don't deserve it and who I would be loathe to give it to. I originally thought I would give it to charity, but that doesn't incentivise me because it is a good thing to do anyway, and I would be able to justify, begrudgingly, not loosing the weight. Suggestions would be appreciated as to who you think does not deserve any handouts. Crown Casino? Trump Corporation? Collingwood Football Club? Tell yo…

Day 76: On the Question of Holidaying

I have been pondering the essence of what holidaying is all about. Why do you do it? What makes a holiday enjoyable? Sometimes I think the most enjoyable parts of a holiday are the anticipation and the memory. The actual being in the now of a holiday is often so overwhelming or impactful or emotional that it seems not enjoyable. I am not being ungrateful. I will love the time I am having when I am no longer having it. And plenty of what I am doing is fabulous. It just makes me think about it when I do things like going into town this afternoon. We made the mistake of putting our names down for the bus transfer in and out of town. It meant that we had to hang around for the full duration of the time allotted, so that the poor driver wouldn't be looking for us in vain when the trip home came around, rather than jumping in a taxi when we had had enough. Hoi An is beautiful. It has a plethora of buildings which, unlike many other towns in Vietnam, haven't been damaged in any nu…

Day 75: The Girl From Ipanema

Mission accomplished. Managed to spend the whole day by the pool, reading, swimming, people watching. No return to cocktails or any form of alcohol at this stage. As a result my day maybe doesn't sound that exciting, but in my imagination it was non-stop. I investigated the deaths of three infants in the flat of a 'former' prostitute in Quebec while juggling two men's affection for me; I used the grief of the death of a friend to win back the woman he had stolen from me; I photographed the last moments of the Vietnamese war with America while trying to evacuate my injured Vietnamese lover from Saigon; I practised loading a gun while two moons hung over me and I waited for instructions to murder a paedophile; I tried to work out who killed an obese man by hanging him in a tree in the midwinter frozen tundra of Sweden; and; I headed off back to Vietnam on a secret mission to discover yet another murderer, a lieutenant who had killed a sargeant, witnessed by a Vietnames…